The Coin Toss

A visit to Horspath yesterday. The weather had a menacing, dark foreboding feel about it, rain in the morning meant that covers were still on a pitch that looked like it had been heavily watered.

As the covers were wheeled away it was obvious that this was one toss you needed to win, especially as the forecast was for drying winds and sunshine later in the afternoon.

You can probably guess the rest. Having been asked to bat we were quickly reduced to 70 odd for 7 on a pitch that was near impossible to time anything on and that was offering prodigous seam movement and steepling bounce off a length. Only Matt offered any resistance and ended up being hit at least 7 times for his trouble.

This brought Tom to the crease. Tom may be new to some of you. Remember the name. Not Tom Robinson of 2-4-6-8 Motorway or Glad to Be Gay fame. (We need a nickname for our Tom).

Same name, different M.O. Whether our Tom is Glad To be Gay or not is currently unknown. What we do know is that when he is the zone he is a sight to behold. He swung wildly and effectively and in the process managed to really irritate the Horspath opening bowler. With some support from Phil The Caretaker they took us up to 136. Credit is due to a very good Horspath side for bowling very well in helpful conditions and also for backing there bowlers up with some quality fielding and catching.

Tea was a rather splendid affair, served inside where we could at last shelter from the drizzle and wind.

It was vital that the drizzle and wind continued if we were to stand a chance of defending 136.

We started brightly and Matt took two early wickets. The sun was out by now and the pitch quickly flattened out. Horspath's opening bat played very well to accumulate 72 not out as they easily scored the winning runs with the loss of three wickets.

So, a game that was heavily influenced by the toss. we will never know what may have happened had we won and fielded first so it isn't worth speculating. Instead we must focus on next weeks home game against Tiddington.

Big Yellow Taxi

I sit down this evening in a far more bucolic mood than last week. The countryside was glorious today, a stroll on the Downs as the wind blustered about and the rain showers scudded past would have been relaxing enough, however basking in the afterglow of yesterday's win has left me with a warm feeling of contentment this evening.

My first visit to Cropredy did not disappoint in any way. A lovely ground moored between the River Cherwell and rolling buttercup strewn fields is what cricket is all about, the sun shone and everything was right. If I could just win a toss for once. I lost the toss. Again.

Invited to bat by Cropredy we set off at a fair lick as the opening bowlers struggled to find line or length. We pushed past 50 at 6 an over before Pritch got a straight one that kept low. Les had a very easy decision to make.

The Judge continued on past 50 for the second time this season before falling to the sucker punch. The umpire struck back. Clearly sensing that, at 118 for 1 we were in danger of batting the home side out of the game. Jules allowed an innocuous loosener to hit his pad. It did not matter that he was playing a shot, was hit outside the line and got a good stride in. He was out on the 'H' of 'How's'...... That is how quickly the finger went up. He took it well!!!!!!!!!!!

Cropredy's 14 year old leggie was bowling beautifully and risks could not afford to be taken by either Bernard or T'Gravy. They pushed the score on and Matt passed 50 and looked in good nick with a steely determination. Bernard departed with the score on 150 odd. He found the only fielder in the deep. He refused to believe his own eyes and stood staring in disbelief as he wished he had hit it either: Straighter, Squarer or harder.

Brockett joined Matt and they accelerated perfectly to 250 odd before Bris was out for 40 odd. Matt then kicked on and went past the ton in style. A superb innings that showed Matt was back to close to his best. The punch of the air released a lot of emotions in all of us. So, declaration made at 275 for 4. Over to Cropredy to see what they could do with their 50 overs.

A special mention has to be made at this point to the fielder who redefined what 'A shocker' is. He would have done no worse had he been dressed in leg irons and boxing gloves. I suspect he will never play cricket again and is now barred from Cropredy. How we smirked.

Cropredy were never in it. An early wicket brought excitement. Hussain batted like he had a flight to catch. As he ran himself out after he had scored his 50 it transpired that he actually had a cab to drive and was not going to miss out on the start of his shift. I kid you not.

He departed, and with him went hope. Sat in the back seat.

Jordan and Jules bowled 26 overs between them, taking 6 wickets for 45 runs. It ripped the heart out of their innings. Ably supported by Matt and a fine a Bernard run out we had them 9 down with 150 needed to win. Could we take the last, vital wicket? The overs ticked by.

Robbie came back on and did his best to hit the outside edge or the stumps. In the end it took an impulsive, wild yahoo! of a shot from the aforementioned shackled boxer. Angry Chris pouched the skier. Cue celebrations..............Hip, Hip Hoo bloomin Ray.

What did we learn?

The top six fired. The opening bowling has room for improvement. And Cropredy will be relegated. I can't wait for next week.

High, wide and handsome

Good evening brothers (and sisters).

A belated blog this week; it seems that juggling cricket, work and children is not perhaps as easy as I once hoped it might be. The squeeze had a birthday as well, so blame her for the late blogging.

Sadly, there were very few highlights from Saturday's tame performance against the market square heroes from Thame.

Following the toss McStay inserted his own team on what looked like a typical Didcot track. Somehow they racked up 206 from their 53 overs. I am going to gloss over much of our bowling performance, reliving it is too painful. The Judge and The Caretaker found good rhythm and control after an opening burst from the lad Jones had whipped out the first couple of wickets, including a great catch at slip from The Caretaker, who can look forward to many more afternoons bent over between Brockett and The Judge waiting to grab the ball.

Control was elusive for the first 20 overs as a plethora of wides, no balls and byes racked up. 35 of the first 60 runs were extras, enough said. I am sure that some time at the nets will sort out problems with run ups and line. I certainly hope so.

Anyway the spin twins whirled away and wrestled control back, 28 overs, 3 for 91 between them.

Spare a thought for Brockett who had more bruised fingers than Stevie Wonder after a nail the tail on the donkey game at Roy Orbisons 70th birthday party. The pitch was by now starting to misbehave a little, some staying low and some spitting nastily. Thame's Richard Carr wore one on the thumb. He is a native of Malta, and it takes very little to make him cross. Splitting his thumb open actually seemed to calm him down.

Anyway, tea was taken - thank you to Mr and Mrs Bernard. A super spread.

Our innings never really got going, wickets fell regularly until Brocket and Angry Chris put a partnership together to take us to 127 for 5. Both looked comfortable and well in control until the lethal combination of a trigger happy umpire and the demon pitch saw for them both. Good innings from both.

We fell short by 25 runs. Everyone in the top 9 will be thinking that had they gone on with their innings we would have won. That's all it would have taken.

So, lessons learned and plenty of mistakes not to be repeated.

We must, and will, do better against Cropredy.

Oxford Comma

*Sigh* Good evening pop pickers and welcome to another year of post Saturday musings. I have searched the literary annals for inspiration this year, I look in the mirror and hope to see Ernest Hemingway staring back at me. An inspirational figure who filled his life with travel and adventure, as well as the odd drop of rum and a fat Cohiba. Sadly I see Eddie Hemmings staring back at me. (Nippers had better consult Wikipedia to understand what I mean - a free snake awaits the first person to tell me what his highest test score was).

Is it really that time already? A proper winter this year gave way to a perfect spring and just as we were thinking this can't last; it didn't.

Predictably the rain lashed down on Friday night and our crushing victory of Banbury XX will have to wait 9 weeks.

So, what to do with a spare Saturday so early in the season? I paced about. Shouted at the cats. Threw the cats out. In the rain. Even that didn't lift my black mood. The next logical step was to pick a pointless argument with the squeeze, for it must be her fault that it has rained for the first time in SIX WEEKS. Now, female intuition is a marvellous thing, the squeeze caught me off guard with a preemptive strike and suggested that I head to the Field of Dreams and watch the seconds play. That's why I love her.

Thoroughly enjoyable it was too as I witnessed an absolute mauling of Oxford IV's.

Batting first, Diddy openers Kankadandiandiandiandi and the Judge notched up 70 odd in quick time with a mixture of late cuts, dabs and drives. A splendid start. Pras was the first to fall, gloriously. Santosh hopped to the crease and picked up where Pras left off, some expansive, head in the air drives outside off stump would probably have been very impressive had a connection been made. The pull shots did connect and were stupendous. The ton was up in quick time as Bernard strode manfully to the crease. He stared looking like someone who had been to Austria to hone his skills before starting to look like a batsman and clubbing a marvellous straight six.

Meanwhile the Judge was accumulating a competent half century, never looking troubled, apart from a suicidal single that brought out the best comedy fielding moment of the season so far as Oxford screwed up monumentally - how we laughed.

In a lesson that we can all learn from he then got out when well set for what should have been a fine century. I am sure other opportunities are just around the corner.

Meanwhile AB was moving steadily toward another red inker, the perfect situation for the Accumulator, nudging and nurdling and resolutely turning down down sharp singles until ball six he provided solidity and impetus at the same time. Joined for the final 8 overs by Rob "I have a BMW, have I told you?" Keat they pushed the score up to 248 for 4. Rob delivered exactly what he has threatened to just when he needed to. He can rightfully claim the outside lane of the motorway as his own now.

Oxford got off to a solid start before Northern Gravy was rewarded for a fine spell of medium paced bowling with the first wicket.

The match seemed to be drifting until the introduction of Footpenis who found the just the right spot on the wicket, combined with his stature (he is only 4ft 2" tall) he found a couple of shooters and before he knew had 4 for not many, ripping the middle order out. Meanwhile Sam Baldrick had a cunning plan; bowling with fine control and prodigious turn he mopped up most of the lower oder and finished with a 4fer that was well deserved. Jones returned and pinned back the off stump of number 11 and it was all over. 25 points and not quite six o'clock.

Hopefully I will actually be playing next Saturday rather than cursing the weather, until then...........

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